August 2010
2 posts
“Look,” I said, “We talked about this last night. We’ve been talking about this for weeks. My answer is the same as your mom’s: no way. Sorry buddy.”
It wasn’t a new argument. Tom looked up at me under the visor of his Jay’s hat, but I kept my attention focused on the crossing lights. I didn’t have to look down to see his face set resolute, against a world of...
The frenzy of the keystrokes had built up before she really knew she was angry, chewed-down fingernails clackering dervishes before battle. Like an old woman awoken by an off-key snore, it was only a break in the rhythm of her typing that startled her into an abrupt self-consciousness. Katherine looked down at her hands. They were trembling in the cold of the air conditioning and she was...
July 2010
2 posts
sidewalk
I can feel the sandwich sitting cold in my stomach and the radiant sidewalk seeping through the soles of my Oxfords. It’s too hot to go outside today, I said, but we walked to the restaurant for lunch anyway. I don’t feel hungry much these days. I blame it on the heat. I push my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose and all around us the pulse of sound and smell is distorted like the air rising...
1 tag
just a game
I’d just ordered Chinese when Alex sent a text that he’d be late. The software company he worked for was almost at a major release and he’d been putting in a lot of late nights to meet deadlines. I texted back, “Okay,” then got a beer from the fridge. It was Friday night and I stood in the kitchen for a while, looking at the potted plastic plant in the corner near the knife block as I drank. Alex...
June 2010
1 post
ephemerality and wall posts
Carl took a seat at the back of the viewing room after helping himself to a Dixie cup of punch. Jeff had been the second person at work to die in the last three weeks. First had been Irene Palmerston from QA and her heart attack. Jeff, a DBA, had fought valiantly against a testicular cancer that had metastasized. There had been an apologetic email sent out to the office. The funeral home was a ten...
May 2010
1 post
lettuce
The fervour of the produce isle is almost overwhelming without a certain diligence. Remove your focus from the bruises, the brown edges, the wilting, and you can lose yourself in the clamor of exhaled breath and cell phone vibrations. I never wanted to be a programmer. I tell people I buy my suits at the thrift store, carrying on the mediocre legacy of half a dozen old dead men, but really I buy...